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Proposal price – £5000
My choice of attire today wasn’t just to impress Kingsgate. I knew full well what the gig tonight would be before I scheduled in my viewings. I love to be resourceful. I’ve let my bun loose, but I still look like I’m out to address an executive committee.
I must be living up to User 4109’s instructions to look the part in Canary Wharf, because nobody here gives me a second glance as I clutch my paperwork and hurry along with my handbag. My tenancy paperwork feels like a trophy against my chest. Another double purpose bonus.
I click arrived on the app when I reach the entrance to SQW Banking Corporation.
I anticipate more of a delay, given my client will already be engaged in his yearly budget meeting, but the instructions ping right through.
You are Holly Jones. I’ve cleared your ‘intern pass’ with reception. Elevator to floor 12. My office is the last on the right. Mr Gregory. Enter without knocking. Crawl across the floor like a slut.
I get tingles just from reading his words. I must have read through his proposal fifty times, his tone so commanding. I’m more than excited as I step inside, still on a high from Belgravia. My confidence is through the roof after landing my apartment, and what better way to celebrate than a ton of extra cash in the bank and a shit hot proposal to attend to.
My pussy is desperate for it. I loved being an innocent sleeping beauty last night, but tonight I want to be a filthy bitch, and get punished for it.
I want him to look me in the face like I’m a filthy siren and gag me with my dirty panties as punishment.
“Holly Jones,” I say to the woman on the front desk, conscious of the security guy standing to her side. Despite the fact it’s almost 8 p.m., the place is still humming with the work vibe. The wonders of worldwide business, though. There must be people working shifts over every time zone.
The receptionist hands over an intern pass.
“Annual budget meeting, floor twelve.” She points to the elevators.
“Thank you.”
I step inside the elevator doors to join a few men in suits, staring at the documents in their hands before they catch sight of the gothy intern standing next to them. I get smiles, and I smile back like a cheeky vixen, making sure my eyes linger on every one of them. I’m learning to be quite a player.
One of them gets out at floor three. Another at floor four. The last one remains with me until floor seven, where he makes a grab at conversation.
“Haven’t seen you around here before.”
“No, I’m a new intern. Lucky enough to get to check out the budget meeting.”
He raises his eyebrows. “You’re going to the directors’ floor?”
I grin with pride, it’s obviously an accolade he thinks I’ve earned.
“Sure am.”
I give him a wave goodbye when he reaches his floor, grinning at the knowledge I’m going right for the top. Then I shuffle on my court heels, preparing myself for the perilous journey ahead. I need to sneak into Mr Gregory’s office without being seen. It feels like I’m in some kind of spy movie, not enacting a client proposal.
The foyer of floor twelve is bustling when I step out of the elevator, but everyone seems too preoccupied to notice me. The tension in the air is palpable, and it adds to the thrill. Whatever budget meeting is going down tonight is a major one. It makes it easy to walk on by like I was born to be here.
The corridor grows quieter the further I walk. I hold my tenancy paperwork to me like a shield, tipping my head at anyone passing. And then I see it. The door to Mr Gregory’s office is right in front of me, with his name and title etched in gold on the glass.
Internal windows the proposal said. Quite an understatement. The whole fucking wall is made of glass. Mr Gregory’s desk is angled to give some coverage, but crawling over and hiding underneath is going to be riskier than Die Hard.
I see him through the glass, and he’s definitely worth taking a chance for. He has the kind of salt and pepper hair I love, with a clipped grey beard. He’s clearly athletic under his suit, and his confidence is strong enough to make my cheeks warm. He looks formidable. I wouldn’t want to cross him in a work capacity in a million years.
He wasn’t lying when he said there were risks involved. He wants the thrill of a slut whore crawling over to his desk, which is hot as fuck, and if I manage it, great stuff. If I fail, I’ll be escorted from the premises by security with my arm locked behind my back – a filthy, slutty criminal, playing games I shouldn’t be.
I’m coming to love being a naughty girl.
I glance around me, scanning my tenancy paperwork intently until the coast is clear. The other offices are glass fronted too, but the figures sitting at their desks are masked by huge PC screens. Mr Gregory isn’t a total hedonist. He knows this feat must be possible.
I wait until the final woman in the corridor closes the door behind her and then I make a dash for it. I pull my client’s door open, dump my tenancy paperwork and handbag on a cabinet to the left, and the door clicks shut as I drop to my knees – crawling on a mission to make it to his desk as he watches me. Damn, my heart is thumping like crazy. I try to keep my eyes on him and focused on the task at hand, hoping my stockings aren’t snagging on the carpet. Mr Gregory doesn’t smile, just glares as I approach, and it hits me again just how strong roleplay can be.
In User 4109’s world, I’m a slutty bitch out to snare him during one of his most important work presentations, and in my world, I’m becoming what he wants. A whore of an intern at SQW, desperate for a taste of Mr Gregory.
